


After All

by WithoutBringingMeDreams



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Belle and Adam are cool too, Cannon compliant, Insecure LeFou, M/M, Post-Movie, Romance, kindly mrs. potts, sweet stanely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-17 05:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10587135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithoutBringingMeDreams/pseuds/WithoutBringingMeDreams
Summary: Canon compliant post-movie fic, starting with LeFou finding the body of his fallen friend and following his journey to his own HEA.Complete.





	1. Fallen Friend

LeFou has already lost his breath from running by the time he comes upon the scene. There’s no air left for him to gasp or cry out with. He simply sees all the red and falls to his knees.

There’s too much blood. He can’t get any closer. He’s not brave enough, not strong enough, not _anything_ enough. He’s a failure and a fool.

 _He let Gaston die_.

A gentle hand lands on his back. “LeFou?”

He ignores it a first, as well as the white handkerchief offered to him. Why does he need that?

Oh…probably for the waterfall of tears streaming down his face. “I… I sh-should’ve stopped him. I _tried_ to stop him but I—”

“It isn’t your fault.” It’s Belle’s gentle hand and Belle’s gentle voice trying to soothe him, but that only deepens the knot of pain in his stomach. How he’d disliked her for taking Gaston’s attentions…

“Gaston made his own choices.” Her torn slip from earlier is covered in a cloak, but she removes it to place over his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, though. I know you two were close.”

Close. Did that describe it? For all his many, many flaws, Gaston had picked a nobody like LeFou to trust, to share his secrets with, to be by his side nearly constantly. And Gaston meant everything to him—he was the first person LeFou thought about in the morning and the last one at night, the man he was completely and utterly in l—

God, no. Not that.

LeFou turns away from Belle and is sick all over the stone walkway.

“Is he ill?” A new person joins them—a blond stranger. He’s cloaked in a regal blue robe—a _princely_ robe—that he sweeps off his shoulders and wraps around Belle’s slender frame.

“In shock, I think,” Belle answers.

“Come, friend.” A much stronger hand lands upon LeFou’s back, jarring him so harshly he nearly collapses into his own pile of sick and tears. “We will take care of him, give him a soldier’s funeral.”

“Wh-what?” LeFou manages to lift an arm and swipe the wetness from his face. “B-but he tried to kill you!”

The stranger—or _the_ _prince_ —nods. “No man is perfect. I know that too well. I’m only sorry your friend won’t have the chance to learn from his mistakes. Still, we can remember him for the good he’s done. There’s no harm in that.”

A fresh wave of tears pours down LeFou’s cheeks. Does Gaston deserve this? Does he?

“Come, LeFou.” Belle lifts him by one arm, and the prince by the other. He stumbles to his feet. “Come and rest. You’ve been up all night.”

Some of the townspeople have arrived, and they place a sheet over Gaston’s lifeless body. It’s over now. LeFou will never see Gaston’s face again. He couldn’t even summon the courage to look upon it one last time.

“I don’t want to leave him,” he mumbles as he’s led away. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Belle says, but it’s meaningless. Everything is empty—the hallways they pass, the stairs he somehow climbs with the helping hands on either side of him, his heart. If only he could get the message to his eyes, which refuse to stop their waterworks.

He’s transferred into someone else’s arms—a woman who clucks and coos over him, sounding suspiciously like the teapot he rescued mid-battle. “He’ll be just fine, don’t you worry, dears.” She dismisses Belle and the prince with a wave of her hand. “A good sleep will help everyone. We’ll start there and things will be better tomorrow.”

He’s taken to a great big room with an enormous bed. Too much room and too much bed for scum like him. It’s all blurry, though, as he can’t blink the tears away fast enough.

“Here you are, dear.” The teapot-turned-lady guides him to the bed.

He climbs in, fully clothed. “I let him die.”

“Hush, now,” she murmurs. “Rest.”

He closes his eyes to the emptiness and waits for the sweet release of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could watch the movie over again to get the dialogue style down, but that'd be too expensive. So, sorry for any OOCness. Also it's 2am, so sorry for typos, etc.


	2. Be Our Guest

It’s dark when he awakens. Flickering light from candles in the hallway creeps in under the bedroom door. His eyes are swollen still but thank God the crying has stopped, and he’s able to think a little more clearly.

Clear enough to remember what a fool he made of himself earlier in front of Belle and the prince.

He rises quietly. He should leave, at once. No matter how kind everyone was to him before, he can’t possibly be welcomed here.

He’s almost to the door—and that’s quite a journey, in this gargantuan castle—when a tall, thin man with a handlebar mustache intercepts him. “Ah, mon amie, you are awake! Mrs. Potts, our guest is awake!”

Mrs. Potts appears out of thin air and cuts off his path of escape. “Perfect! You must be hungry, dear, you managed to sleep all day!” She ushers him off towards the dining room and forces him into a chair.

“I’m sorry?” Perhaps he is still a little dazed. He must be. He can’t really be sitting at a grandiose dining table while Ms. Potts—the former teapot—lays out a place setting for him.

“Don’t be silly, child. You needed a good rest. And now you need a good meal.”

He shakes his head, finally finding his grip on reality. “No, no. I couldn’t. I can’t stay. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why ever not?” A cup of tea is set in front of him.

Is she senile? Maybe it was all those years spent as puttering porcelain. “We attacked you! The prince was nearly killed…all of you nearly lost your lives!”

“What I remember is how you saved me from certain shattering, and then helped us win the day.”

He sighs deeply. Yes, he’d realized the error of following Gaston so very blindly, but only at the last possible moment. And not in time to save Gaston from himself.

He can’t swallow even a sip of the tea. Besides, being waited upon like some kind of royalty would feel wrong in any circumstance. He rises and heads for the door again. “Thank you for your generosity, but I really must be leaving.”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Potts blocks him yet again. “It may finally be turning to spring, but that doesn’t mean the wolves aren’t still on the prowl. If you really must leave, you’ll have to wait until morning.”

LeFou hesitates—of course his fear would be stronger than his shame.

“And you haven’t eaten all day. You simply must have something.”

To his continued humiliation, his treacherous stomach chooses that moment to growl.

His face burns. “Madame, you are very kind, but all this…” He waves his hand toward the impossibly long table and fine china. “It’s simply too much for a man like me.”

She nods. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in the kitchen, then. Come along!”

He is manhandled—or woman-handled—towards the servants’ quarters and deposited at an unpretentious wooden table.

“There we are, much better! I don’t blame you one bit, I have simple tastes myself.” Mrs. Potts makes quick work of filling this smaller table with all sorts of breads, meats, cheeses, and a bottle of wine. “Bon appetit!”

For once, LeFou finds his appetite has abandoned him. Gaston would have loved a spread like this. He’d have torn the thick bread apart with his massive hands and eaten an entire sausage in one bite.

He’ll never get to watch Gaston eat again. And what a stupid, stupid thing for him to miss. He truly is pathetic.

“What’s weighing on you, dear?” Mrs. Potts pulls up a chair beside him. “It might help to share the burden.”

It should be obvious enough, but apparently he must keep repeating it. “I did try to stop him. I really did. He was just so _obsessed_ with Belle...” He grits his teeth at the memories.

“And that bothered you, did it?”

“What?” He blinks up at Mrs. Potts, who has her elbows against the table and is blowing steam away from her own cup of tea.

“So odd to be drinking tea again!” She laughs. “But as you were saying, your friend Gaston…”

“Oh, yes. Well, he’s…” LeFou stops and swallows past the lump in his throat. “He _was_ no perfect man, but things got much worse after he set his sights on Belle. He wouldn’t be swayed, no matter how hard I tried, and it just made me so…” he trails off, words abandoning him.

“Jealous?” Mrs. Potts supplies.

LeFou chokes on air. “What? No! No, of course not!”

“That someone else was taking up his time, preventing him from his usual pursuits with his friends,” she elaborates.

“Oh.” The blush on his cheeks must be flaming red by now. “Yes, that.”

Mrs. Potts sets down her teacup. “Or was it that you wished he’d show that sort of affection for you?”

The wave of dizziness that strikes nearly makes him fall out of his chair. His throat betrays him, seizing up on the denial he knows he must give. Tears sting at his tired eyes. He’s in no state to handle this.

The chair scrapes horribly against the floor as he stands. “I’ll go,” he coughs out, more wheeze than words.

“Sit down, Monsieur LeFou,” Mrs. Potts commands. “You’re going nowhere!”

He sits abruptly. For a sweet older lady, she’s rather frightening when she snaps like that.

“There’s no need for embarrassment, and I won’t tell another soul if you don’t wish it.”

 _If_ he doesn’t wish it? How could he possibly want anyone to know what a depraved creature he is?

But he’s already admitted his guilt, at least to her. She can’t have misread his panic, or the water welling in his eyes.

“B-but…what you’re saying…it isn’t _right_ …I’d be a monster!”

She snorts. “Around here that word doesn’t have quite the same meaning. But in any case, I don’t see a monster. I see a young man who loved someone… and it was _he_ who let you down, not the other way around.”

By God, she’s said the word out loud. The very word LeFou has been running from in his thoughts and dreams for so long. Said it plain and simple over a meal at a kitchen table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

More of her porcelain insanity?

She offers him a napkin, and he’s forced to take it so he can wipe his wet face and blow his nose.

“There now, don’t you feel better now you’ve gotten that off your chest? I know it’ll still hurt for some time, but you’ll get better, day by day. Now, the next step is a nice meal! Please do eat. We can’t have you wasting away.”

His stomach growls traitorously. This could almost be a crazed dream, if not for the heavenly scent of the rich foods before him.

“I don’t think there’s ever any danger of that,” he says hoarsely. “I’ve much too much padding as it is.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Potts huffs. “You’ve a perfectly good frame. It’s always the thin ones a fever carries away in the night. I hope my Chip grows up to be sturdy like you. I’m so happy he’ll have more people to interact with now…especially a nice young man like yourself.”

He frowns. She can’t be serious. No mother could truly want her son around someone like _him_. And what reason would he have to be around the young lad?

“Oh yes, I almost forgot, didn’t I?” She’s chattering on again as if responding to his confusion. “Belle and Prince Adam told me to offer you a job to stay on here at the castle. There’s much to be done now to spruce up the place and make it ready for the season.”

 _What?_ He nearly bursts into tears, yet again. It takes all his willpower—what little he must have—to restrain himself. Instead he sits with his mouth gaping.

“If you must have your mouth open, at least put food in it, child,” Mrs. Potts scolds. “Perhaps you’ll feel more comfortable if I leave you to it. But I’ll be back shortly, and I expect these plates empty, understand?”

“Y-yes, Madame,” he responds weakly. She nods and bustles out of the room.

Left alone, he eyes the spread warily. This is still much too good for the likes of him, and the tension continues to swirl in his gut. But he has given Mrs. Potts his word, and he’s so lightheaded he’s _sure_ he’s not feeling the proper mortification at everything that’s just occurred.

So, one good meal, and then he’ll be off to…where, exactly? His small room behind Gaston’s house simply isn’t an option. He can’t go back there, can’t be assaulted by all those memories.

He rips into a bit of bread and adds a hunk of cheese. By God, but castle folk eat well.

Now then, if not back to town, he could set off on his own. Try to find work in the next village over, or take to the seas and become a sailor…

He nibbles on a bit of the meat and washes it back with a goblet of wine. He’s never had finer stuff.

Then again, he _could_ just stay here. Do his part to help the prince, make up for the damage Gaston did…redeem himself somehow.

Yes, that’s exactly it. He owes it to Prince Adam and Belle and the wonderfully understanding Mrs. Potts. Maybe he’ll also do it _for_ Gaston, in a way. In any case, he’ll be a better man from this day forward.

The knot in his stomach loosens slightly, and he settles in to finish the rest of his meal.


	3. Rest in Peace

The frost has melted—magically—and a warm breeze stirs the air. It’s almost too warm, and LeFou tugs uselessly at the collar of his black suit as he stands apart from the crowd gathered at the funeral. He no longer belongs with the townspeople, but he’s not yet one of the castle folk. Either that, or everyone knows to give him his space on this day.

The pine box—ornately carved, as Gaston would have liked it—is finally lowered into the ground. He’s already forgone the chance to say something on Gaston’s behalf, because what he feels can’t be uttered out loud. But many others have shared tales of Gaston’s glory and explained away his error in judgment at the end. How was Gaston to know the beast was no danger to them?

Except he did know, because Belle may have been a fanciful girl with her nose always in a book, but she was no liar. 

No, there’s nothing LeFou can say. The man who has taken up such a space in his heart doesn’t deserve it at all, and yet he’s lodged there still, making his chest ache terribly.

He won’t be able to withstand much more of this without breaking. As soon as Tom announces they should all meet at the tavern to drink to Gaston’s memory, he turns on his heels and speeds back towards the castle entrance. At least Prince Adam has been kind enough to allow Gaston to be buried on the grounds. Straying too far from the castle and from the work that keeps his mind busy simply isn’t possible for him yet.

“LeFou?” a timid voice calls out to him, and he whirls to find Stanley has followed, hat in hand.

“Bonjour, Stanley. Can I help you?” he answers dutifully, when all he really wants is to shut himself away from everyone and everything.

“I…I wished to offer my condolences. We were all worried when you didn’t return to town.” 

“Oh?” Whoever could _we_ mean? “I, um, took a job at the castle. Repairs and the like.”

“Ah.” Stanley nods. “That’s wonderful. And you’re…doing fine?”

“Yes.” LeFou forces a tight smile, but somehow it turns out more like a grimace. “Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

He turns away before his weak, tear-prone eyes can betray him, but Stanley follows. “Because I was hoping…I mean, I thought perhaps I could speak to you about something. In private.”

Stanley shuffles about awkwardly, twisting his hat. At least LeFou isn’t alone in his unease. Still, he can’t be rude. “Yes, of course. My room is right this way.”

He’s switched from the elegant quarters where he cried himself to sleep that first day to the servant’s lodging, even though the rest of the household staff has claimed many of the former guest rooms for themselves. They’ve earned that reward a hundred times, and he’s earned exactly nothing.

They step inside, and Stanley closes the door behind them. “You’ve done well for yourself,” he says as he looks around.

It’s a small space, but the ceilings are high and light streams in the window. “I don’t deserve it,” LeFou answers automatically, and then blushes. He shouldn’t unload his personal failings on Stanley.

Stanley furrows his brow. “I think you do. And I’m sure you’re working hard to earn your keep.”

“That’s…very kind of you.” They sit stiffly—LeFou on his bed and Stanley on the lone chair in the room. “You were saying, you had something to discuss?”

“Ah, yes.” Stanley wrings his poor hat into a tight wad and stares at the floor. “When you didn’t return to town, I thought perhaps it was because you were very upset about Gaston.”

LeFou nods. It’s true enough. “We were…good friends, once.”

Stanley scrapes his foot against the stone floor, dislodging a bit of dirt from the cemetery grounds. He hastily kicks it under the bed. “Yes, well, I wanted you to know…I understand what he truly meant to you. I thought it might help, somehow.”

“What he truly meant to me?” LeFou blurts the words out too loudly, half out of confusion and half out of fear.

“Yes.” Stanley finally looks up and meets his eyes. “What he _meant_.”

No, no. Stanley can’t possibly know. Just when LeFou is finding a bit of footing here at the castle, the world can’t possibly come crashing down on him yet again.

“I’m not sure what you’re going on about,” he rasps, throat too tight. “Any good friend would mourn the loss of another.”

Stanley narrows his gaze and takes stock of LeFou, from top to bottom, as if he must size him up before speaking. “What I mean is, I know you desired him.”

LeFou shoots to his feet like he’s been branded by a hot iron. “Wh-what? How…how dare you! You should leave at once, and if you ever speak a word of such things again I’ll…I’ll…” 

He’ll what, exactly? There’s no Gaston behind him anymore to back up his threats. Alone, he’s powerless. Useless.

His heart pounds so mercilessly he’s afraid he’ll faint before he reaches the door. And once he does have a grip on the handle, Stanley blocks him from opening it anyhow. Of course he’s much stronger than LeFou. Everyone is.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, LeFou. I didn’t mean to startle you. Please, let me explain!”

“You will leave here or I’ll throw you out!” Again, empty threats. They’re all he has.

“But LeFou, I’m like you!”

 _What?_ With the flash of adrenaline and the constricting black clothing, his skin is nearly on fire. He backtracks to the bed in two quick steps and sits rather than risk collapsing. “L-like me? What on earth are you speaking of?”

Stanley sits beside him, much too closely, and smiles sadly. “I find the male form more desirable than the female. Always have.”

My God, to actually admit to being such a deviant, _out loud_ …

LeFou gasps for air. “Why…why are you telling me this?”

Stanley shrugs. “Because I knew how deeply you must be hurting after Gaston’s passing, and I wanted you to know…you’re not alone.”

 _You’re not alone._ First Belle’s words, and now Stanley’s. Had he ever head them before? Certainly not so persistently.

He closes his eyes and wipes at the sweat on his brow. “How did you know?”

The truth has clearly been revealed—to more than one person—so he must take care to prevent it from happening again.

“It was the way you looked at him,” Stanley answers.

“How’s that, exactly?”

“The way I wished you’d look at me.”

LeFou’s eyes shoot open and his jaw drops. Did the man suffer a concussion during the battle? He takes in the image of Stanley beside him—though they’ve known each other quite some time—and finds his lean muscled frame and chiseled cheekbones, well, _attractive_.

Then he glances down at his own physique, growing doughier by the day with his too-healthy appetite, the wonderful castle foods, and Mrs. Potts’ care.

None of this makes any sense.

“Why…why would someone like _you_ wish that from someone like _me_?” 

Stanley grins at him. “Why did you desire Gaston, when it’s forbidden? And when you knew he’d never return the feeling?”

Again with that word— _desire._ LeFou blushes so deeply he knows it has spread down his entire body. “I…I don’t know.”

“And there you have it.” Stanley winks. “I don’t know why, I simply know what is.”

Had there been signs? Anything to back up this ludicrous notion?

Well, come to think of it, Stanley had always been quite friendly. Ready to laugh at his jokes, buy him a drink, share a meal, help walk him home on drunken nights when Gaston had abandoned him, smile softly at him with those quite shapely lips… 

How had he never noticed before? 

Of course, it was hard to notice anything when Gaston the Sun had him so completely blinded.

“Don’t worry.” Stanley pats his hand, drawing him back to himself. “I didn’t tell you this because I expect anything. I know the heart doesn’t work that way, and that yours will take time to mend.” 

LeFou nods slowly.

“But I hope it helps to know I understand. And should you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to bend, I’m your man.” Stanley squeezes his hand one last time before rising. “Au revoir, LeFou.”

He exits the room and LeFou is left dumbfounded and alone…and yet, not so alone as before.


	4. What Dreams May Come

Through the haze of a dream, LeFou wanders the tavern. Bodies push and shove against him but he forces his way past, to the massive table in the center. Gaston stands there, light streaming down upon him from some unseen source, highlighting his broad frame and flexed muscles.

 _LeFou, my little friend,_ Gaston says somehow, although in this dream world his lips don’t move.

LeFou steps up beside him. “Why did you do it? You should have listened to me!”

 _My little friend,_ Gaston repeats.

“Why did you leave me?” LeFou shouts. “I loved you!”

The dream-people around him continue to drink and dance and carry on as if they’ve heard nothing.

“I loved you,” LeFou says again, calmer now. He fought this moment for so very long—even in his dreams—but it’s not nearly as terrifying as it once was. Not even when the image of Gaston begins to fade.

_Goodbye, my little friend._

LeFou reaches out, but it’s too late. Gaston has vanished, and so has the table, and the entire room is now filled with raucous drunkards.

Time to leave, or wake up, somehow. He tries to find the entrance, but it’s no longer there. The room is now wall-to-wall revelry, loud music, and hot, stale air. He slams through the crowd, tossing dream-people left and right, until a familiar face halts him in his tracks.

Stanley.

The partygoers continue to swarm around him, but the noise quiets and the colors fade, so that only the man before him remains in focus.

Stanley smiles gently and takes his hand. “I desire you,” he says.

A fire ignites inside LeFou, deep and instinctual. He knows it, recognizes it, and it’s exactly what Stanley spoke of, in the waking world and in this insane dream. _Desire._

“Stanley, I—”

 

Something crashes in one of the great rooms of the castle, echoing through the walls, and LeFou jolts awake. He’s lying in damp sheets, soaked with sweat from the intensity of the dream—one so very vivid that Stanley’s face is still fresh in his mind. With those thick brows and handsome sideburns and perfectly shaped lips, Stanley really was rather memorable. Debonair and yet mysterious, strong and brave enough to fight when called to, but also sweet and caring and—

A clock chimes in the castle, and it’s only then LeFou realizes the minutes that have passed. Minutes in which he hasn’t thought of Gaston. For the first time in _years_ Gaston wasn’t his initial conscious thought in the morning, and for the first time since that fateful day, his passing wasn’t the second.

It’s possible he is actually healing, just as Mrs. Potts promised. And it’s possible Stanley might just have something to do with it as well.

“Thank you, Madame,” a voice carries from somewhere outside his room. “You are truly an angel.”

 _Stanley’s voice_.

Stanley? Here, now? LeFou scrambles out of bed. Stanley’s visage isn’t the only thing that remains from the dream…embers of that _fire_ within still smolder. They haven’t seen each other since the funeral, but perhaps now is the time to change that.

LeFou struggles into his clothes as quickly as he can, cursing at the difficulty. How has he let them get so tight in just over a month here? He’ll have to curb his appetite if he has any hopes of not outgrowing them. Already the buttons of his vest barely close, and he imagines he must look like an overstuffed holiday hog.

But there’s no time to fix that now. If he waits any longer Stanley will be gone, and chasing after him on horseback would be far too…desperate.

He dashes down the hallways and arrives out of breath just as Lumiere is opening the door to escort Stanley out.

“LeFou!” Stanley smiles broadly.

“Bonjour, Stanley.” LeFou sucks in his paunch as he approaches.

Lumiere’s eyes do an odd little dance between him and Stanley before he nods his goodbye and heads off.

Of course, LeFou hasn’t thought past this initial moment—just the chance to see Stanley again. He has no clue how to proceed.

“What…what brings you to the castle?” he manages to ask. And then it dawns on him—Stanley came all the way to the castle for some reason, and was obviously leaving without giving LeFou a second thought.

How could he be so stupid as to think Stanley truly had any intentions with him?

He sighs, until the stress on his poor vest forces him to inhale sharply again.

“I…” Stanley shifts from foot to foot. “I had a…a message to deliver to Madame De Garderobe, from…someone in town.”

“Oh.” LeFou nods, shoulders already slumped in defeat. “Very well. Safe journey.”

“I thought of coming to see you,” Stanley adds in a rush, causing LeFou to snap back to attention. “But it’s very early in the morning still, and I thought perhaps you…needed more time.”

His words carry a double meaning—more time for Lefou to awaken, and more time for Gaston’s hold over his heart to wane.

LeFou’s face warms with a blush he cannot fight. “Ah. Well, as you can see, I’m…I’m up and ready for the day.”

Perhaps _his_ words mean more than the literal as well.

A magnificent smile is Stanley’s response, and it draws LeFou a few steps forward. “I’m glad to see that. You look very well.”

“As do you,” LeFou replies.

Stanley’s nostrils flare and his cheeks go pink, too—although they had seemed somewhat unusually pink already.

My God, are they… _flirting_?

“I’ve…I’ve been thinking of you,” LeFou admits, although _dreaming about you_ would be more accurate.

Stanley draws toward him this time, so they are a mere foot apart. “You have?”

“W-well…yes, I—” LeFou pauses in his stuttering as he observes a smear of red along the corner of Stanley’s mouth. Perhaps some leftover jam from breakfast? “Ah, you have a little something here…”

He reaches out on instinct to wipe it away, because it’s exactly the kind of thing he would’ve done for Gaston had he eaten so sloppily. It wouldn’t do for the town’s most handsome man to not look his best. Gaston would have found nothing intimate in the touch…while of course LeFou would have taken his own secret pleasure from it.

But Stanley jumps back frantically before they can connect and brings his own hand to his mouth in a harsh swipe. “Oh, y-yes, thank you.” He backtracks all the way to the front door.

 _Stupid fool._ What was he thinking? To even _attempt_ to touch Stanley like that? Maybe the man had once wished for something between them in a moment of weakness, but surely he’d never _act_ on it.

Stanley yanks open the door, still wiping at his lips. “I must be off, but I do hope to see you again soon.”

“Right. Of course,” LeFou answers, the words dreary and forced.

Stanley pauses at the threshold. “You will be at the prince’s engagement ball week after next, I assume?”

LeFou frowns. “I live here.”

“But as a guest, yes? Madame De Garderobe told me all the staff was invited.”

“I…I suppose.”

“Then I will see you there.” Stanley removes his hat and bows with a little smirk before taking his leave.

LeFou stares at the now-closed door, fighting to gather his scattered thoughts. Of course he has little to no experience in courting to compare anything to… but honestly, what on _earth_ was that?

And the engagement ball is already a mere two weeks away? He’ll be expected to make an appearance, no doubt, and now _Stanley_ will be there and… my God, he’s going to need a new suit.

“Lumiere? Lumiere!” He hurries off. “Is the tailor busy this morning?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Lumiere probably wouldn't be the dude at the door, but whatevs. They're an unconventional castle staff.


	5. Dance with Destiny

LeFou straightens his cravat as he scans the grand ballroom. Everything is perfect—the music, the colors, the dancing. Belle is radiant beside her prince, and nearly all the village is here to witness their joy.

The fact that Gaston is not among them tugs at LeFou only for a moment. It’s too beautiful a day to dwell in sadness.

Besides, he’s feeling rather on point in his tailored suit. He’s even grown a fine mustache, which seems to make his face appear a little more distinguished and a little less _round_.

People greet him as he passes. They _know_ him—not as Gaston’s shadow but as himself—trusted employee, and perhaps even friend, of the princess-to-be.

Life has certainly changed.

“You will save a dance for me, won’t you, my dear?” Mrs. Potts says as she strolls alongside him on the arm of Mr. Potts. “You do dance, don’t you?”

He grins. “Mrs. Potts, I would be glad to show you my skills.”

It’s one of the few things he’s quite adept in. Though his mother passed when he was fourteen, she made sure he’d be ready to woo any lady through the art of formal dance. She may have had an inkling her chubby child would need something other than looks in his bag of romantic tricks.

“I can hardly wait!” Mrs. Potts exclaims, fanning herself dramatically.

“Should I be worried?” Mr. Potts asks, winking at him.

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Potts smacks his hand lightly. “This young lad thinks I’m old enough to be a grandmother. No chance to be concerned for anything here!”

He laughs and begins to protest—after all she was a _teapot_ at the time he’d said that—when Elise from the village comes and grabs his arms.

“Won’t you dance with me, please?”

She doesn’t even give him a chance to respond before he’s whisked onto the dance floor. Madame de Garderobe is belting out a song, and LeFou quickly picks up the beat and joins the rest of the dancers in sync.

Elise laughs brightly. “My, but you’re surprisingly good!”

He narrows his eyes. He could’ve done without the _surprisingly_ bit. Still, dancing is fun and freeing and not even snotty little Elise can bring him down today. Besides, she’s twirled away in a few moments anyway, and he finds himself with a much more respectful lady who plays her part with grace.

In a choreographed move, he passes the woman off and catches his new partner mid-spin.

A strong arm wraps around his waist and dark brown eyes stare into his as they continue to turn.

Stanley.

Stanley, dancing in his arms.

LeFou can’t break from Stanley’s intense gaze. Just as in his dream, the room and all the many people around them fade into the background, so that Stanley alone remains sharp and present.

His heart threatens to flutter out of his chest, and it’s only by muscle memory that LeFou is able to keep moving and not melt into the floor when Stanley smiles at him.

 _Desire desire desire_. It’s too strong for him to fight anymore.

“I had no doubt you’d be an amazing dancer,” Stanley says.

The words are beautiful, but they snap LeFou from his daze.

He’s dancing with Stanley. At the castle ball. In front of… _everyone_.

A furtive glance at the crowd only heightens his fears. A few people are watching. A few are whispering. What are they saying? Do they take this as some joke? Or do they suspect something far more sinister?

His heart beats rapidly for an entirely different reason now. Should he throw Stanley off and find another young lady? Then this moment will surely be but a blip in everyone’s memories of the magnificent day.

But the problem is, he can’t let go. He doesn’t _want_ to let go.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Belle and the Prince watching them. They almost look…concerned.

And why wouldn’t they be. He’s one of their staff, caught doing something so outrageous and unconventional that they’ll surely throw him out by tomorrow and—

Prince Adam abruptly spins Belle away from him and into the arms of…Plumette, which of course leaves Lumiere free. The prince bows to him, Lumiere bows even more deeply, and the two launch off to dance in each other’s arms. Belle curtsies to Plumette, and they follow suit as well.

The crowd laughs and cheers. Soon everyone is switching partners to opposite genders, and while the dancing is much less refined and a bit more… _comedic_ … everyone still appears uproariously happy.

And far too busy to worry about LeFou and Stanley.

LeFou looks back at the man before him. “May I have the rest of this dance?”

“You may have whatever you wish,” Stanley answers.

They float along the ballroom floor, bodies drifting closer and closer together, eyes never leaving one another’s, until the Madame and her husband complete their beautiful song far too soon. 

“I didn’t want it to end,” LeFou says as they’re forced to part.

“Then perhaps we could…step outside for a moment?” Stanley responds.

It’s all the prompting LeFou needs. He rushes out to a small balcony, Stanley close on his heels.

As soon as they’re alone, LeFou nearly crows with the wild energy that has built inside him. “That was exhilarating!”

It was an event not likely to ever repeat itself, and he would treasure the memory always. Dancing with someone he so… _desired_ …in front of everyone, being so close to Stanley while all the world could see…

Stanley takes his hand. “I couldn’t agree more. And perhaps you’ll find other things similarly as…exhilarating.”

LeFou goes stock-still as Stanley comes closer and closer. So close his firm body is pressing into LeFou’s softer one, so close he can feel the man’s breath on his skin.

He wouldn’t be trying to… he couldn’t actually want to k—

Stanley rests his head on LeFou’s shoulder and draws him into a tight embrace. Music from the ballroom drifts out to them and they sway in each other’s arms.

“My handsome LeFou,” Stanley whispers in his ear as he finally draws back, stubble scraping along LeFou’s cheek.

LeFou blinks twice and then snaps. Mentally and physically—launching himself forward and into Stanley’s lips. He kisses hungrily, tongue thrusting and hands threading into Stanley’s hair to draw him nearer and nearer still.

A door creaks somewhere close by and they jump apart.

“Oh.” LeFou begins to shake, coming to his senses. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry, I d-don’t know why I did that, I’m so s—”

Stanley puts a finger to his mouth to stop him. “No, no, please don’t be sorry.” He brushes any leftover moisture from his lips and quickly straightens out his hair—although it doesn’t quite recapture its former style. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Really?” LeFou is torn between crying with sheer joy and grabbing the man by the collar to do it all over again.

“Really,” Stanley affirms, voice growing deep. “Though perhaps we should take this somewhere a little more…private.”

Stanley begins to lead the way, but LeFou freezes. All sorts of things could happen _in private_. “Stanley, wait.”

Stanley stops and looks at him expectantly.

“I…I’m not sure I’m ready to make this decision.”

Accepting his desires is one thing. Choosing to live his life by them is another.

Stanley nods, though his face falls. “Is it…Gaston?”

“No!” He honestly hasn’t thought of the man since the dancing began. “No, Stanley, I swear it. I may miss him always, but what I feel for you is…different and new and…incredible.”

Hope lights up again in Stanley’s eyes.

“I just need a little more time to be sure I can handle…being as I am. I don’t wish to rush into it and wind up hurting you somehow.”

Stanley exhales deeply as if he’s mulling this over. “Yes, I can understand that. It’s actually very sweet. You should know this is no passing fancy for me.”

LeFou shakes his head and tries desperately to beat back the oncoming blush. “What I know is that you’re quite crazy to have chosen _me_.”

“Yes, indeed.” Stanley agrees. “Then you are the fool and I am the crazed lunatic. Perhaps we’ll make quite the pair.”

“Perhaps,” LeFou says, chuckling.

“Shall we go back in and enjoy the festivities? I’m sure the lady of the castle would like a dance with you.”

“Mrs. Potts?” he says with deliberate obtuseness. “Yes, I’ve already promised her one.”

Stanley laughs loudly, and they make their way in to rejoin the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elise is one of the triplets/bimbettes, I guess, according to wikipedia
> 
> Also, this is so much cheese.


	6. Mother Knows Best

LeFou eyes Mrs. Potts with growing amusement as she dances by him in the kitchen, the milk jug in her arms her dancing partner.

“I’ll go on dancing for weeks!” she exclaims. “It was so very wonderful, wasn’t it? It’d been far too long since we’d had such a gathering here. Mr. Potts and I danced the whole evening away!”

“And just think, soon it will be the wedding,” LeFou adds, which lights up her smile even more.

“Indeed! You had a good time last night as well, I think?”

He chooses that moment to sip at his tea so he can hide his blush.

“That young friend of yours—Stanley, was it? He seems like a nice gentlemen…even if he did barge in here and attack us once.”

“Mm. Yes,” LeFou mumbles, garbling his response with more tea.

Mrs. Potts stops dancing and lands directly in front of him, one eyebrow raised. “He also seemed quite…interested in you.”

There’s not enough tea in the small cup to save LeFou from her busybody ways. He stares down at the empty porcelain and manages only the stiffest of shrugs. “Mrs. Potts, I…I’m not really comfortable speaking about…”

“Say no more.” She waves him off and begins setting the table for lunch. “I understand, dear. I simply wanted you to know I found him quite nice.”

With a tight nod, he rinses out his cup, then turns to leave.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” she calls after him.

Hunger does gnaw at him, but he manages to shake his head. Despite the… unexpected wonders of the previous evening, there’s a tension growing in him that Mrs. Potts is sure to suss out if he stays much longer. “None for me today. Busy schedule, much to do.”

She somehow crosses the kitchen in two steps and blocks off his exit. “But you’ve had no breakfast, either.”

She truly knew what went on in every part of the castle at any given moment, didn’t she?

He smiles ruefully and pats his stomach. “I’ve grown a bit too sturdy, lately. Must keep myself in check or I’ll have nothing to wear.” Without the magic of the fancy tailored suit from the ball, he was back to being keenly aware of his size.

Mrs. Potts scowls. “Firstly, you cannot stop eating completely. You won’t be able to focus on your work that way. And secondly, you’ve been at the castle for over two months. It’s time you updated your wardrobe anyhow. We’ve a more formal style.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden on the tailor. He’ll have the bridal gown to create, and the Prince’s suits…”

“Nonsense. You’ll take your things to him this afternoon. He’ll mend some, make some new, and you’ll be set for the season.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary…”

“And what if your gentlemen friend should come calling? You’ll want to look your very best.”

LeFou inhales sharply. _Why_ must she be so blunt?

He leans his head against the wall behind him, trying to sort the storm of thoughts in his mind. “Mrs. Potts… I’m not so sure he _should_ come calling.”

She frowns. “Why is that? You didn’t enjoy his company?”

“I did,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “I enjoyed it…very much.”

“Well then, what problem is there?”

He balls his hands into fists. “It’s…I’m not… I’m not supposed to…”

She interrupts. “You don’t think you deserve happiness, child?”

 _Happiness_. Happiness was gliding along the dance floor with Stanley in his arms. It was smiling at him, talking to him, being held by him, _kissing_ him…

Did he really deserve that?

“I haven’t always been the greatest person, and I—”

“If you say one word about storming the castle I will conk you over the head. Half the village invaded and we’ve all moved past that, haven’t we? Besides, you’ve more than made up for your mistakes.”

She has both hands on her hips, a very effective tactic for staring him down. He nods meekly.

Of course, there is the still the whole Maurice issue, but if Belle and her father have forgiven him…

“And your young friend, he deserves to be happy as well, doesn’t he?”

He’s forced to nod again.

“Then say it.”

“Say…what?”

“Say it out loud. _I deserve to be happy_.”

She’s got that fiery glint in her eye that means she won’t back down, no matter how ridiculous she’s being.

Lefou takes a deep breath. “I…deserve to be happy?”

She taps her foot and sighs. “I suppose we’ll keep working on it. Now then.” She turns her back on him for a moment and heads to the table. When she returns, she has a sandwich wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Eat this and be on your way.”

He can’t help but laugh. She’s just such a _mother_. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that role being filled in his life before she’d come along.

“And my dear?” She catches him at the threshold. “You are a good man, and you _do_ deserve happiness. From whatever—or _whoever_ —brings it to you.”

He blinks away the burn of tears. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

Maybe he can’t trust his own crazy notions, but he can trust Mrs. Potts, can’t he?

_I deserve to be happy._

He takes a few bites of his sandwich while standing out in the hallway, both to gather his strength and to buy time for the knot of anxiety in his chest to settle. If he really _should_ be allowed happiness despite his many flaws, and if _Stanley_ is what brings that happiness…then he probably shouldn’t have let the man go with nothing more than a polite nod in mixed company at the conclusion of the ball.

Especially not since mere hours before he’d had his tongue down Stanley’s throat.

Then, as Mrs. Potts had so keenly pointed out, there was also the matter of what Stanley deserved. More than the likes of him, certainly. In fact, he could very well set his sights on a better candidate now, after being so rebuffed. How long would the man truly wait for LeFou to make up his mind?

LeFou swallows his last bite and balls the napkin into an angry fist. Why was he fighting this decision? No one else could make it for him. There was no longer any Gaston to tell him what to do or think. Only he could choose—and doing so, one way or the other—had to be better than prolonging this agony.

 _Man up, LeFou,_ he orders himself.

Mrs. Potts bumps into him as she exits the kitchen with a dining tray. “Oh, sorry my dear. Didn’t know you were there. Still hungry?”

“Well, yes…but actually I need your help on a different matter.”

“Anything in my power,” she responds cheerily.

“C-could you…could you help me write a letter? I’d like to invite my, uh, friend up to the castle one afternoon.”

Meeting with Stanley again was at least a step in… _a_ direction.

Her proud smile is exactly the balm he needs to see this thing through. _Manning up_ was somehow much easier now with her motherly influence.

“I think that’s a splendid idea, my dear. It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meh not my favorite chap


	7. Dress for Success

_Stanley, Stanley, Stanley._ LeFou chants the name to himself as he examines his reflection in the mirror. He looks closely enough to make sure everything is set properly, but not so close as to begin to fret over his less-than-perfect figure. Mrs. Potts finally did insist he change his wardrobe, though his new things are much finer, so he really can’t complain.

It’s been two weeks—two excruciatingly long weeks—since their dance, and this very afternoon he’ll get the chance to be alone with the man again to… Do what, exactly?

Walk the castle grounds? Perhaps a swift horseback ride through the country? Or grab him and kiss him until neither of them can breathe…

“Monsieur LeFou?” Chip’s small knock startles him. “Are you going to join me in the library for today’s reading lesson?”

He opens the door to smile down at the child. “Not today, Chip. I’m…I’m meeting a friend.”

“Oh.” Chip scowls. “I thought Monsieur Stanley came to see Madame de Garderobe. Lessons are always more fun when you come.”

LeFou pats the child on the head. “Sorry, my boy. Next time. But why would you think Sta—Monsieur Stanley would be in to see Madame de Garderobe?”

“I dunno.” Chip shrugs and begins to skip away. “He’s been talking to her for a while today.”

“Today?” LeFou follows after him. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.” Chip’s a quick lad, and he’s almost out of earshot. “They’re in that dresses room!” He disappears around a corner.

 _Stanley_. Already here.

LeFou doesn’t have to wait a second longer. He races off to the Madame’s room, so charged with excitement that he forgets to announce his presence and instead barges straight in. She’s a forgiving lady, after all.

Music plays from one of Maurice’s creations, and two women whirl around the room in colorful gowns. But they stop abruptly when they see him.

One of the women is Madame de Garderobe, and the other is…Stanley.

“LeFou!” Stanley gasps.

LeFou blinks to make sure he’s seeing things properly.

“LeFou, let me explain.” Stanley rips the white wig from his hair, but he still has a full face of makeup and, of course, the bright yellow gown.

Madame de Garderobe quietly slips past both of them and out the door. “I’ll give you two chers some time alone.”

Stanley steps forward, though not too close, and wrings his hands in front of him. “It’s not what you think. At least, I think it’s not what you think. I’m not exactly sure what you think.”

LeFou raises his brows.

“It isn’t that I want to be a woman. I simply…enjoy the nice things sometimes. The fabrics, the way the skirts move, the beautiful makeup…” he trails off.

LeFou continues gaping.

“I’m sorry.” Stanley hangs his head. “I’ll take it off at once.”

“Wait, stop.” LeFou finally summons his voice. Stanley glances up at him hesitantly.

He must choose his next words carefully. How is one supposed to respond to a revelation such as this? If he’s a true gentleman, he does so with calm consideration. Logic. Thorough discourse.

It’s certainly odd. But then again, so is he… and where is the harm?

LeFou examines the man-dressed-as-woman before him, taking in the full image from head to toe. No, there is no harm. In fact…

“I’ve…I’ve never been so attracted to a woman before.”

 _Oh, for heaven’s sake_. Those were not the rational, well-thought out words he meant to say.

Stanley scowls. “LeFou, I just said, I’m not—”

In a few swift steps, LeFou is at Stanley’s side. There is simply something fascinating about the incongruity of the man in a dress—his adam’s apple above the fancy collar, his dark stubble a persistent shadow despite the heavy white powder.

“My point,” LeFou says, snatching Stanley by his corseted waist, “is that I like it.”

Forget words. Action is best. And is it possible he’s really becoming a man of _action_ now? That would be more unexpected than…Stanley in a dress.

Stanley lowers his kohl-lined lashes. “You mean it? Honestly? Oh, LeFou, I was so worried you might prefer someone more…masculine, especially after Ga—”

Unable to keep his lips in check any longer, LeFou interrupts with a forceful kiss. Not how he imagined their second romantic encounter would go, but the pleasure runs just as deep inside him. Every part of kissing Stanley is easy and _right_ —even the rough stubble scraping against his skin, even the occasional clink of their teeth as they seek to slot lips and tongue together in the closest way possible.

He won’t be able to live without this incredible feeling in his life anymore. There simply is no going back.

“I think…I think I might be ready,” he murmurs against Stanley’s lips. His hand travels to the back of the dress and he pulls at the tie to undo it.

Seems his body has made all the decisions for him. The idea of being this close to Stanley—Stanley in a suit, Stanley in a dress, Stanley in a flour sack—and not touching him, kissing him, answering the call of that _desire_ is far more terrible than the notion of breaking one of society’s many rules.

Stanley helps him along, stepping out of the gown and the hooped underskirt. He even has on a woman’s underthings, and the delicate slip against his muscled chest is nothing short of amazing.

“Beautiful,” LeFou mumbles, his hand trembling as he slowly caresses the combination of silk and strength, then slips the garment off Stanley’s shoulders.

Stanley steps out of this final layer and stands there in only his bottom undergarment, eyeing LeFou like he’s ready to devour him.

“I believe it’s your turn, now,” he says.

Oh. _Oh._ LeFou backs up automatically until he collides with the bed behind him and lands in a sitting position.

Stanley follows after him like a cat stalking his prey and pounces, forcing LeFou onto his back. He rather looks like a cat, too, with the angle of the black kohl on his eyes. He straddles LeFou and begins undoing the buttons on his vest, hungrily kissing down his neck at the same time.

“St-stanley…”

Stanley’s teeth graze at his soft chest, and LeFou abruptly squirms out from under him to plop ungracefully onto the floor.

He crosses his arms over his too-wide body and takes a shaky breath. How can he let Stanley undress him completely? By his top half _he_ is the one who should be wearing a dress. Somehow his imperfections mattered much less before his desires had any chance of being reciprocated.

Stanley kneels beside him. “Is…is everything all right?”

“Yes, of course!” He bites his lip. “Only…we can’t do this here. It’s the Madame’s room and it simply isn’t right.”

Stanley laughs. “It isn’t really her room, LeFou. You know she shares a bed with Maestro Cadenza. She just keeps her dresses here.”

“Still, she could walk in and discover us and…and…”

“And she already knows.”

“ _What?_ ” LeFou wheezes, clutching at his chest for an entirely different reason now. “Why, h-how—”

“She’s an artist, LeFou.” Stanley forcibly takes his hand and threads their fingers together. “And she’s traveled the world. She said she’s known many men like me…like _us_.”

LeFou shakes his head. At this rate, the entire castle was going to know his most personal business. He shouldn’t be surprised if even the dog was informed.

“Please don’t be upset, mon amour. With me it was rather obvious to her, and once she saw us dancing…”

 _Mon amour_. LeFou glances over at Stanley’s worried eyes, and his heart swells. He can trust this man—that much he knows. “I’m not upset, simply…adjusting to it all.” He leans over and kisses Stanley to prove his point.

Stanley grins and hops to his feet. “Then I know just the thing to make you more comfortable.” He picks up his discarded clothes from earlier and hastily redresses in his own outfit.

“What?” LeFou asks, still seated on the floor beside the bed.

“We’ll go to your room, of course,” Stanley announces, and offers LeFou his hand. “Where I can have you completely to myself.”

All out of excuses, LeFou allows himself to be pulled up and led away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disney, disney, what have you done to me...


	8. Inside and Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor adult content ahead, but I was totally disney about it, imo

“How I’ve waited for this,” Stanley murmurs, breath hot against LeFou’s lips, hands roaming freely down his shirt and around to his backside. Stanley may not be as large as… _some_ , but he still has LeFou effectively pinned against the wall of his room.

LeFou laughs nervously through their next kiss. “You’ve, uh, not been with any other…” He lets the _men_ part go unsaid. It’s still quite awkward.

“Well, I have, but only with a few—and I didn’t really know them. No true feeling behind it…nothing like this. 

“Ah. Right.”

Stanley occupies his mouth with another forceful kiss. “Quiet, now. I won’t wait any longer.” He grins devilishly and makes quick work of removing LeFou’s vest and tossing it to the floor. Then his fingers creep to the hem of LeFou’s shirt.

LeFou darts away. “Ah, are you thirsty at all? I could go fetch us a bottle of wine.”

“Not thirsty,” Stanley says, then narrows his eyes seductively. “At least, not for wine.”

My God, but he was single-minded.

Why had LeFou chosen for them to meet during daylight hours? At least in the evening he would’ve had the comfort of shadows to hide himself in. He really hadn’t expected how persistent Stanley would be …but then again, the man had shown quite enough patience, especially if he spoke truthfully about how long he’d been harboring these feelings.

But exactly _why_ he has such feelings still remains a mystery.

“You might be later, though. No harm in popping over to grab one now. Better to be prepared, I say.” LeFou forces a laugh and reaches for his fallen vest.

Stanley crosses his arms. “LeFou, what’s wrong? Have you changed your mind? Is it G—”

“Don’t you dare say that name right now,” LeFou snaps. He _won’t_ live with Gaston hovering over him for the rest of his life. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Then what?” Stanley throws up his hands, clearly exasperated.

This isn’t good. LeFou is liable to scare the man away at this rate, and he probably won’t ever have another chance at… _happiness_ such as this.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m completely certain of my feelings for you, Stanley. What I don’t quite understand yet are your feelings for me.”

That does nothing to ease the growing tension in Stanley’s brow. “Haven’t I been clear enough? I desire you. Preferably naked, at the moment.”

LeFou blushes deeper than any shade of Madame De Garderobe’s makeup. “But _why_ , Stanley? I’m…I’m a mess of a man, both inside and out.”

Stanley’s face softens. “No you aren’t.”

“Just look at me!” He gestures to his ample body. “And look at what I did, following G—” he stops before he breaks his own rule. “Following a crush around blindly for all those years.”

Stanley steps forward and tugs LeFou into an embrace. It’s the perfect response, really, and LeFou feels the confusion and turmoil begin to melt away in the warmth of Stanley’s arms.

“If by _outside_ , you are referring to your bit of extra padding, I happen to find it quite comfortable. Perfect for holding onto.” One of Stanley’s hands slips down to LeFou’s backside, where he gives a hearty squeeze.

LeFou jumps and nearly yelps, but he’s still trapped in Stanley’s embrace.

“And as for the inside, I’ve always known you to be kind, loyal, and intelligent. You may once have been foolishly in love, but you really are no fool.”

LeFou stares up into Stanley’s eyes. The look there is unwavering and _true_.

“Why do you think I fell for you in the first place? I always dreamt that if you could see me… _really_ see me”—he gestures to the remnants of coloring on his face—“that you’d accept me as I am. And I was right, LeFou. You are exactly the man I thought you were. Exactly the man I’ve waited for.”

If not for Stanley’s arms around him, LeFou would surely sink to the floor. Never before has he felt more _worthy_ of being alive. “I…” He stops and breathes deeply. “I believe I am in love with you.”

Stanley’s eyes go glassy with unshed tears. “And I with you.”

The words are a more powerful magic than even the enchantress can command. Stanley loves him and he loves Stanley. It’s…completion.

Slowly and without speaking, Stanley strips him of his clothes. Rather than look down at himself, LeFou admires the expression on Stanley’s face—one of clear lust and desire. He has no more cause to doubt that. He lets himself be taken to bed, where Stanley crawls down between his legs, forcing them apart. Before LeFou can realize the intent, Stanley has taken his length into his warm mouth.

LeFou’s eyes roll back with his startled gasp. But through much concentration, he manages to refocus his gaze on the man below him—he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. Stanley’s head moves up and down as he stares intently at LeFou, each blink seeming to speak _I love you._ And it could only be Stanley there, pleasuring him in this most intimate way. Only him and no one else in the entire world.

He reaches the climax and cries out, then quickly stifles the sound in a pillow.

“My goodness,” Stanley says, lips red and swollen in his grin. “If you’re not careful, Mrs. Potts will come to see what is the matter.”

LeFou now uses the pillow to swat Stanley on the head. “It would be your fault!”

“Would it?” Stanley crawls up beside him and pulls him into a fiery kiss with his still-hot lips. “I should like to test that theory. All night, preferably.” He frowns slightly. “Shame I’ll have to leave before dusk.”

Lefou frowns as well. There are still a few hours before sunset, but it won’t be nearly enough time for all he wishes to…pursue with Stanley now that he’s finally let down his guard. “Couldn’t you stay for the evening meal as well?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t yet dealt with the problem of the wolves. Some people in the village wish to form a hunting party, if the Prince will allow it.”

“Oh.” _Why_ had he wasted so much time earlier? Both today…and in his life. “But perhaps you could…stay the night?”

Stanley arches a brow. “As a guest of the castle? Wouldn’t you have to tell Cogsworth if I were to take a room?”

“Here. With me,” LeFou says, patting the bed, and then feels his face go hot. Now who is the persistent one? Was it common for men such as them to share a bed in the way other couples did?

For a moment, Stanley looks shaken. He takes a deep breath. “I’ll stay forever, if you want me to.”

No reason to worry, then—apparently Stanley is a tireless romantic. LeFou rolls his eyes in the hopes of hiding the moisture that has gathered there. “Has anyone ever told you you are quite the sap?”

“Only you, mon amour,” Stanley replies, and then kisses him soundly. “Only you.”


	9. Rose By Any Other Name

A stream of early daylight on his face wakes him. LeFou blinks slowly into the sun, then turns to take in his surroundings.

Stanley lies beside him, snoring softly. A bit of red still colors the corners of his mouth, and the black from around is eyes is smudged everywhere, including the sheets 

Even with the mess, he is beautiful.

LeFou reaches out gingerly and brushes a curl from Stanley’s forehead.

“Mm?” Stanley shifts and opens his eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s all right. I suppose I should leave before the rest of the household wakes up.”

LeFou sighs. Stanley’s right, of course. But lying in the man’s arms while the sun slowly rises, after the night they’ve shared together— it’s the epitome of contentment. If only it could last.

Stanley reaches out and gently rubs LeFou’s belly. “Gaston did this, didn’t he?” he remarks, and LeFou glances down to see him patting at the scar there.

LeFou huffs. “I’d really prefer we didn’t talk about him while lying naked in bed together.”

“Easy, now.” Stanley laughs. “I was only curious if you…took pleasure in such things.”

LeFou sends his eyes heavenward in a plea for sanity. He never dreamed he’d be forced to discuss such things out loud. “He did that when we were wrestling…and only because for once I had momentarily surprised him and gotten the upper hand.”

Stanley raises his brows as if incredulous at such a thought.

“Well I had!” LeFou grumbles. “If only for a second. In any case, he made quick work of earning his victory after that. And I won’t say I didn’t derive…something from tousling around with him…but the pain I could’ve done without.”

There was much more than the physical pain from one small bite involved, but somehow he suspects Stanley already understands.

“Very well then.” Stanley leans over and kisses the spot gently, making LeFou ticklish. “I shall only treat you with the utmost respect.”

LeFou laughs and reluctantly lets Stanley unwrap himself from the sheets to stand. At least he can now admire the man in the bright light as he redresses.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he says as Stanley finishes off the buttons of his shirt and begins wiping his face clean.

Stanley pauses in his work. “I meant what I said last night. I’d stay forever if I could. Would you want that?”

“Of course I would,” LeFou replies dutifully. “I’d have you stay forever and a day.”

“Now who is the sap,” Stanley says. He leans over and kisses LeFou goodbye. “Until then, mon amour.”

Warm and happy and _sated_ , LeFou closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

 

*

 

A knock startles him back to consciousness. “Monsieur LeFou! Mama says you’ve slept far too long and she wants to give you a lesson to make up for yesterday! You’d better come to the library right now!”

It _is_ quite late to be starting the day, LeFou realizes as he hurries to dress. He can only hope that somehow Mrs. Potts doesn’t know the reason for his tardiness. Although the chances of that seem to be slim, given her track record.

Once ready, he takes off so quickly he nearly collides with Belle as she’s heading away from the library, her typical pile of books in hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Be—um, your highness.”

Belle shakes her head. “I’ve told you before. _Please_ do not call me that. It’s so stuffy."

“Very well, uh, Belle.” He bows respectfully anyhow. “Please pardon my clumsiness.”

“I’m just as responsible,” she says, pointing with her chin at the open book on top of her pile. “This one is simply so fascinating! You’ll be up to reading it soon, I expect.”

He hides his snort. “Perhaps.”

“In any case, it’s good we ran into each other. I wanted to mention that friend of yours has applied to run the stables here. A live-in position. Shall I tell Cogsworth to accept him?”

Lefou blinks and stares. “Friend?”

“Stanley, I believe. He came by this morning. You’re quite…close, aren’t you?”

“C-close?” he stutters. “I…I wouldn’t say that. Acquaintances, perhaps.”

What was Stanley thinking? If he were to live at the castle, they’d be around each other all the time, and how would that look?

Belle narrows her eyes. “Ah. I see. So you don’t know if he’s a good fit for the staff?”

“I…I really don’t…we aren’t that close, you see, and—”

Sanity is slipping away from him, like grains of sand through his fingers. Why would Stanley put him in this position?

“Then I suppose I’ll tell Cogsworth to consider other candidates as well. Funny, I was certain he’d mentioned you as a reference.”

LeFou pales. Now he’s on the verge of actively sabotaging the man who’d held him in his arms the entire night long. But Stanley had really done all this without his consent? That just…didn’t seem like him. 

Maybe because it _wasn’t._

_I wish you didn’t have to go._

_I’d stay forever if I could. Would you want that?_

_I’d have you stay forever and a day._

He can hardly fault Stanley, now can he? It’s own big mouth that has given permission. All that Stanley has done is prove his intentions, his commitment to their relationship… his _love._

And maybe it’s not such a farfetched plan to live in the same household and still keep their secret. Hadn’t LeFou been around Gaston for ages without anyone suspecting a thing? Except for Mrs. Potts, of course. And Stanley. And possibly Madame de Garderobe and—well, that was it, wasn’t it?

He takes a deep, steadying breath. He _will_ get a handle on himself.

Only, where is Belle now? He whirls around, but she has evidently continued on her way while he’s been lost in thought. Continued on her way to…Cogsworth.

“Belle!” He races down the hallway with all the speed he can muster. “Belle!”

This time when they collide, her books fly up and scatter everywhere, and he just barely manages to catch her before she too topples to the floor.

 “Oh, God, I am so sorry!” He sets her upright and hurries to retrieve the texts. So much for getting a handle on himself. “Truly, it won’t happen again, I’ll be sure to look where I’m going next time, and of course I should not be running through your castle so carelessly, and—”

“LeFou.” She places her small hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “I may be a princess soon, but you know I’m no fragile flower. I can survive a minor trampling. Now, did you have something to tell me?”

“Well, y-yes…it’s just that I’ve thought about it and…” He _has_ thought about it. Over and over and over again. And even if there is much he’s still uncertain of…Stanley isn’t one of them. The rest will work itself out over time.

“And?” Belle prompts.

He fills his chest with air so he can get it all out in one breath.

“And Stanley is an excellent, hardworking man. He’ll surely be a great addition to the staff.”

“Ah.” Belle gives his shoulder one final pat. “Perfect. I’ll be sure to let Cogsworth know. Now go on, don’t keep Mrs. Potts waiting.”

He bows to her and she curtsies back—though he’s not entirely sure she’s supposed to do that. Then she gathers up her books and heads off, smiling softly to herself.

LeFou remains in the hallway, blinking at the stone wall, allowing the full impact of his actions to sink in. For summoning the courage to be, well, _honest_ …he’ll soon have Stanley near him every day, every evening, perhaps even in his very bed…

It’s everything he never dreamed he could have. Certainly not when he was Gaston’s little friend LeFou, settling for stolen glances and accidental closeness. Not when he was in denial of his own heart, or too lonely and afraid to move forward with his life.

How very far he’s come. 

The library will have to wait. Mrs. Potts is sure to give him an earful later—she insists on squeezing in literacy lessons whenever she can. It’s a rather arduous task, this learning to read business, but he has something more pressing on his mind.

He backtracks to the rear entrance of the castle. The spring day is bright and warm, and the recent perfect weather has allowed the grounds’ many-colored rose bushes to flourish. By order of the prince, the flowers are to be freely picked by any who desire them. LeFou settles on a yellow blossom much larger than those around it—a near perfect specimen—but hesitates before cutting it. A flower’s beauty is always so fleeting.

Still, that will be true whether he plucks it or not. And at least it has had its moment to live as a rose. That must be worth something.

He removes the flower and carries it with him, up to the grassy hilltop.

“Hello, old friend,” he says when he reaches the tombstone. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

He lays the rose atop the stone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come before, but I’ve needed the time to think…about who I am, I suppose.”

He traces the engraved word _Gaston_ with his fingertips. He’s not likely to ever forget the letters now. “I’m still figuring it out, you could say. It’s clear we both made mistakes before…infatuation can do that to a man. I am the lucky one who gets a second chance, and I…I will take it, for both of us.”

Yes, Gaston could have been a better man. He could have treated LeFou with more care, especially at the end. But there were still moments of genuine friendship they’d shared, and as the prince had once said, there was no harm in remembering that truth as well.

“I probably should have parted ways with you earlier in life, but I won’t say I’m sorry to have met you. If not for you, I may never have come to Villeneuve. I may never have met the kind people here at the castle…or Stanley.”

There’s a swell of joy in his throat, and he almost can’t speak for it. How is it possible for him to be both mourning his friend, and so unimaginably happy at the exact same time?

“I love him,” he tells the tombstone. “I doubt you could’ve understood that, but in a way, you made it all possible.”

Gaston’s meddling may even have been the final catalyst for breaking the castle’s curse. Maybe everything had happened for a reason.

He pats the cold stone one last time. “I won’t forget you…but I must move on now. Goodbye, dear friend.”

He heads back to the castle, mind already whirling with new plans. Tomorrow he will go into town and help fetch Stanley’s things. There’s a perfect room available not too far from his, and near the passage to the stables. They’ll set it up nicely together.

By this time next week, perhaps he’ll be picking flowers for Stanley. Bright red ones, to match that shade he wore on his lips.

There’s just so much to look forward to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue to follow


	10. Happily Ever

“Tonight, on the eve of our wedding, I wanted to gather you all here for a toast.” Prince Adam raises his glass in the great hall, and the entire castle staff follows suit. “Tomorrow, many of the guests will arrive and we will be very busy, but I will be working alongside you, my friends. I do not wish to simply rule over you as royalty. We’ve been through far too much together.”

A general murmur of _here, here_ erupts around LeFou. He hasn’t been through quite as much as the old-timers, but in his own personal life the change is nothing short of miraculous. 

Stanley tugs on his arm. “How long is this toast going to be? I’m dying of thirst. Do you know they’re expecting seventy-five horses? Have you any idea how much hay seventy-five horses must eat? I’ve been slaving away all week.”

LeFou elbows him. “Hush, he’s still speaking.”

“For we are more than master and servants. We are family,” the prince goes on. “And I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done for me, and for Belle.”

Mrs. Potts puts a hand to her chest, going teary-eyed.

“Honestly, he can thank us by letting us drink,” Stanley mutters, his glass drawing closer to his lips.

LeFou jabs Stanley harder, eliciting a muffled _oof_.

“As family, I need you to know that each and every one of you”—Prince Adam’s eyes scan the room—“will always find a home here. No matter what. I cannot promise you the outside world will offer you the same, but here, under this castle roof, you will forever be safe.”

The prince’s gaze covers the crowd once more before he turns and clinks his glass against Belle’s. “To our family.”

“To our family!” Everyone repeats, and they all down their drinks.

“Finally!” Stanley sighs and wipes his mouth. “Now, will you come help me with something?”

“What’s that?” LeFou asks, but Stanley is already darting away through the crowd.

LeFou shakes his head and smiles as he follows. There may be some aspects of courtly etiquette Stanley has yet to pick up on.

He finds him again at the entrance to a storage closet. Stanley yanks him inside and closes the door behind them.

“What do you need from here?” LeFou asks, puzzled.

“This.” Stanley bends over and kisses him. “We haven’t been alone together all day.”

“You’re incorrigible.” LeFou pretends to resist, but only for a moment. “Can’t you wait until tonight?”

“Absolutely not.” Stanley presses against LeFou’s body so he can make his urgency known.

“Well we’re not very well going to do any of… _that_ here,” LeFou admonishes.

“Then you’re very well going to kiss me until your mouth is numb,” Stanley counters, and locks their lips together once again.

The door opens suddenly, and Plumette stands before them. They spring apart, far too late.

“Oh! Excusez-moi, don’t let me bother you, young lovers,” she says, and winks as she closes the door firmly again.

“Oh, God. Oh God, oh God.” Panic begins to swell LeFou’s throat.

“Breathe, breathe, mon amour,” Stanley strokes his back. “She doesn’t care. It’s all right!”

“Why…” LeFou coughs. “Why doesn’t she care?”

Stanley shrugs. “I expect having served the upper class all her life, she’s accustomed to such things. Madame de Garderobe says there are always a few in every royal family, and they generally don’t live under the same oppressive rules as the common folk—at least not in private.”

LeFou frowns. How does everyone know more about…his kind…than he does? It isn’t fair.

“Fine, but we really must take care nothing like this ever happens again. If the prince should find out…”

“My sweet LeFou.” Stanley pulls him into a hug and rests his chin atop LeFou’s head. “Subtleties are truly lost on you, aren’t they?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s clear to me the prince and Belle already know about us. And that part of that little speech in there was for our benefit.”

Lefou stumbles back. “But…but…h-how…”

“Who knows? Who cares? And if it was Madame de Garderobe who told them, I’m sure it was only because she knew full well we’d be accepted.”

LeFou bites his lip. “I suppose it could also have been Mrs. Potts.”

Now it’s Stanley’s turn to be surprised. “Mrs. Potts? Why, I’m shocked. I had no idea you’d told anyone besides me.”

“I didn’t _tell_ her. The confounded woman knows everything!” he exclaims, sending Stanley into a fit of laughter.

“Well, however it occurred, I think the important thing is …we are safe here. Don’t you feel it?”

LeFou draws in a shaky breath.

_Safe. Cared for. Loved. Happy._

A few tears escape his eyes.

“LeFou?” Stanley quickly wipes them away. “Don’t, everything’s okay, please don’t—“

LeFou grabs his hand and kisses it. “I’m happy, I’m happy.”

“Happy?” Stanley repeats doubtfully.

“Well it’s quite a lot of feeling, and I don’t know exactly what to do with it yet.” LeFou laughs, more tears trailing down his cheeks.

Stanley relaxes, then abruptly swings the door open. “Good thing I do. Race you back to your room!” he says, and takes off running.

Stanley is much too quick for LeFou to have hopes of overtaking him, but he does try, if only because he’s just as eager to reach the bedroom. He’s gasping for breath by the time he gets there.

“My you’re slow,” Stanley says with his back to him, busy doing something in the corner of the room.

“This extra padding you’re so fond of means I’m not quite as spry as you are,” LeFou grumbles. “Well then, now what?”

Stanley turns around, his lips coated in a brilliant red sheen. He draws near and lifts LeFou’s shirt up to his underarms.

“Now,” he says, and leaves a rose-colored kiss on LeFou’s chest. “We live”—another kiss—“happily…” the trail of red continues down to LeFou’s stomach “ever…”

LeFou yanks him up and likely smears the rest of the lipstick all over his face as he steals his own lengthy kiss. “I get the picture, mon amour.”

 

The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end. :) I am a giant wedge of cheesy cheese.
> 
> I might consider taking prompts for one shots in the future. You can find me at https://withoutbringingmedreams.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, and I know this is a very long shot, but if any artists ever wanted to do anything for this fic, it'd be the most amazing thing in the world, and I'm considering compiling it into an ebook file (for fun and free) and I just thought it'd be cool to have a cover or something. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! I get the appeal of the Gafou ship (and I can kinda ship it when it's done right), and our little Stanfou/Stafou/Stefou ship (seriously which one is it?! I see all those tags on tumblr) may not be as popular, but we're a cool bunch ;-P

**Author's Note:**

> Will work for comments.
> 
> J/k my brain's gonna make me write this either way, but I'll feel less crazy if I can talk to people about it.


End file.
